Addicted
by A. LaRosa
Summary: Danny/Sam, two-shot. With so many feelings deep within her, Sam has decided to write them on paper and give them to the object that was creating those feelings. So, take a peek at a letter Sam has written our dear Danny. Review!
1. Sam

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Danny Phantom. Never have, never will. _

_**Author's Note:** This was just written on a whim, horrible and crappy. So, don't mind it and review to tell me what you think. All feedback/comments are greatly appreciated._

_**Note:** No, I haven't abandoned 'Ten Things a Sweet Guy Will Do'. You should know better! Tsk, tsk. I've begun writing the next chapter, but it's going to be a while since this next chapter is going to be a doozy._

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"_**It's like I'm lost **_

_**It's like I'm giving up slowly **_

_**It's like you're a ghost that's haunting me **_

_**Leave me alone **_

_**And I know these voices in my head are mine alone **_

_**And I know I'll never change my ways **_

_**If I don't give you up now **_

_**It's like I can't breathe **_

_**It's like I can't see anything **_

_**Nothing but you **_

_**I'm addicted to you **_

_**It's like I can't think **_

_**Without you interrupting me **_

_**In my thoughts, in my dreams **_

_**You've taken over me **_

_**It's like I'm not me..." **_

'_Addicted' by Kelly Clarkson_

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Things are getting harder and harder. I know that love isn't all candies and flowers, unspoken promises and kisses, tender touches and heated nights. I **know** the agony and the misguided hope that lingers around me, softly taunting my every action, my every move. Whenever I am near you, I feel my temperature spike and my face flush. This admiration is becoming too hard to control, too hard to maintain under wraps.

I don't know if I'm kidding myself, here. I feel your eyes on me every now and then, I feel that warm hand on my shoulder, trying to soothe whatever storm going on in my head. You are always there to help, and that is the hope that has stayed in my mind, the hope that has urged me to move forward with confidence every day, to do _this_. However, there is just a little bit of fear–hell, there is a lot of fear that holds me back within an arm's length of you at times. The fear that runs through my veins at the very thought of telling you these emotions I've kept locked in my heart. Oh, the temptation to jump you where you stand is overwhelming; what kind of lady would I be if I did that?

You watch that Hispanic _goddess_ all the time. It's not like you'll die if you look away for a _second_, yet you continue to stare, despite the fact she doesn't care that you exist. Do you know that? Do you know that she'd rather walk around with some incurable disease than date you? I don't know what's got her so high and mighty, but you need to realize what you need has been in front of you your entire life. I've been here, waiting, for you to wake up and smell the coffee; what could she give you that I couldn't? Who is she to take you away from _me?_ I've been there throughout your hardships, your pain. And yet, you don't even realize I do what I do for a reason.

I have to stand by, day by day, and suffer through the endless praises of her beauty and talents. Even if I manage to prove myself worthy of compliment, you compare me to _her_ and somehow make her seem like the all-mighty Lord himself, do you know that?

Do you know how badly I want to scream whenever that tramp's name is uttered in my presence? Do you know how much resentment I hold towards her... just because you can't get enough of her? Sure, I never liked her in the first place, but I now **loathe** her because of how infatuated with her you are.

I don't even bother coming up with a quick-witted retort to prove how nasty she is. I don't even bother anymore! Do you know why?

No one listens to me.

Even though I can't stand to watch you swoon, I know I'll never leave you. You, somewhere in that thickly-settled head of yours, know that, too.

A reason for my pathetic hope is that sometimes you look my way. Sometimes when she's not around, and you're alone with _me_, you defy everything I've set against you and somehow make me feel special. I don't understand (and I don't think I want to) how you have me wrapped around your ghostly finger. I can just feel your ego boost with that thought.

You don't know how many sleepless nights I've laid in bed, thinking about you being here with me. The times I allow my hand to creep underneath the covers, roam it over my own body, and imagine it's yours. You don't know how dangerously dependent I am on you, even though I claim I only live for me. I live, and love, for you. Only for you.

I stare blankly at my dark ceiling, placing together complex fairytales of love, lust, and happiness. Yes, lust. There are times where I imagine you holding me as we fly in the starlit sky, the calm, summer breeze flowing soothingly through our hair...the way you'd hold me tightly to your chest, afraid of ever dropping me; but, I knew you would never do such a thing, for I was safe in your arms. We'd fly to a remote area and never worry about how loud our moans and sounds of passion would get as we succumbed to our greatest desires.

No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get you off of my mind. It's some illness that I can't shake. I don't think I'm trying hard enough to shake it, though. Do I even want to, really?

It's needless to say I don't get a lot of sleep anymore.

Sometimes when I think about you, I can practically feel your presence in my room, watching over me and my every movement. Even though it could possibly be _you_, I don't stop.

I can't stop.

When we're together, I am an unreal actress. I manage to pull off the greatest feat, showing that I am _only_ your friend and nothing more. One day, I hope you'll be able to look into my eyes and see who I really am and what you've been missing out on.

I see it in your eyes, too, sometimes. I don't like to give myself the luxury of knowing you feel what I feel, so I, once again, manage to cower back into my fantasy world.

What makes me hate myself for it, it the small fact that I've tasted what I want. I've kissed those lips of yours many a time before, even though every time it was claimed to be 'fake'. Emotions such as those that I felt could hardly be fake. And, if they _were _fake, you're a damn good actor yourself–just, not as good as me.

Recently, though, you've been starting to stray away from the possibility of a relationship with that shallow bitch, Paulina. It seems like you've had some sense smacked into your head (by my little friend, Mr. Boot on occasion) and you're starting to see things a little more like I do.

Even though you call it your calling and your curse, becoming a ghost is what has made you mature over the years. It's not like you wouldn't have learned maturity on your own and in your own unique ways... just being forced to deal with everything on a regular basis has been a great wake-up call. You tend to be a great procrastinator. So can I. I've put off writing you this letter for some time, and I've finally come to terms with everything.

I hope you don't hate me forever because of this. I hope you see what I see, and don't abandon me for acting this way.

I love you, you idiot.

You're my addiction.

You're my drug and anti-drug.

I know you know that.

I lied when I said I'm a good actress. I fail miserably when I try to hide my feelings for you.

You're the real hero, Danny. You're my hero, believe it or not. You always have been, from when you rescued me from the bullies the first day we met, and from when you save me day after day from a ghost hell-bent on revenge. You've always been there for me, and I'm forever grateful.

I'll say it again...

I love you.

Forever yours,

Sam

P.S. - Disregard the blotchy smudges on the paper... I'm not crying. I'm not.

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_**End note**: Well, what do you think?_

_Plus, I'd like to thank all of my reviewers for my other story–when I get to 200 I'm going to go on overdrive to complete the next chapter! Just a hint-hint to people who haven't reviewed; your review is crucial!_

_**-A**_


	2. Danny

_Yes, Chapter two. I wasn't planning on writing a second chapter, but I thought I'd be nice and give you a little something to tide you over. I mean, I couldn't really write too much for him, since she was the one who spilled everything to him. He's just agreeing with her!_

_So, enjoy. This is the **last** chapter, to be extremely clear._

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I can honestly say that I sat here, staring at that piece of paper for a good forty-five minutes. I still can't wipe the smile off of my face. Even though you say you're a bad actress, I was oblivious to anything and everything, so you were a pretty damn good actress to me.

If I had known what you were going through, do you _think_ I'd just stand by and watch you torture yourself with lies and misconceptions? Do you think it's in my blood to just watch you _cry_, for God's sake? I'd rather die a thousand deaths than be the reason for your tears... remember that, Sam.

I'd do anything to protect you. You **do** know that, don't you? Granted, I have saved your pretty ass many a time in the past, it's not because I _have_ _to_ it's because I _want to_. I never want to see you harmed or in any type of pain.

I knew you hated Paulina, but it wasn't because she was a 'shallow witch'? You hated her because she liked me? Phantom, of course, not myself as I write this. It makes me horrible that I unintentionally put you through all of that crap. I would never do that to you on purpose. Never _ever_ ever.

You think you stay up at night? You think that you get no sleep? Sure, I get no sleep from all of the night watches, searching for ghosts, but on _top_ of that, I hear your voice, cheering me on; I hear _you,_ whispering your praises in my ear. On many occasions I've had to stop myself from going into your room and to watch you while you sleep. However...

I have done it once or twice. Okay, four times, but who's really counting? And, no, I didn't watch you in the shower (despite the need to) and I never watched you get changed (on purpose).

Sorry about that–I didn't think you'd notice. You can sense me anywhere, can't you? Even without being visible, you can pinpoint exactly where I am. You're amazing. I don't say it enough, but you're amazing. You're stunning... gorgeous...

Honestly, you're the hottest gothic I've ever met.

So, directly from me to you, as you read this (hopefully standing in front of me before I lose my nerve), I'll try and act all macho so you can still view me as your 'hero' and then I'll prove to you how I feel about you, once and for all, for eternity and beyond.

I love you, Sammy. It was love at first sight, denial at first accusation. I think Tucker knew it longer than we did, huh? Has he ever given you one of those 'I know something you don't' looks when we were caught flirting? Well, I think it was flirting, but that's besides the point. Everyone and their mom knew about us before we did. I think it's time we took their advice and... become a couple. I'll wholeheartedly become your boyfriend if you'll become my girl.

You've always been my girl, but I never admitted that out loud.

Oh yeah, and all of those 'fake-out make-out's? They were one-hundred percent real, and you know it. I felt the fireworks, and I know you did, too. It was just a major disappointment when I had to let you go, or when we got interrupted (with was five out of six times).

Mr. Boot doesn't like me too much, does he? You should've aimed for Paulina–that would've been a sight to see. There would've been a fight, and Tuck and I would have front-row center. As an afterthought, at least Mr. Boot isn't pointy. _That_ would've hurt like hell.

And, just so you know, I may be your hero, but you're mine. You, with your strength and individuality, prove to be of greater worth than ghost powers could ever be. I may have the ability to turn invisible and fly, but with you next to me, my heart always feels like it's soaring (it's corny, but it's true). Whenever I take you flying with me, I love it even more. You just get the sense of freedom, and if I'm free with you, it makes me the happiest man on the face of the Earth, and I'm not lying to you when I say that.

Did I mention _I love you_?

And, yeah, look up from the letter now so I can kiss you.

**Really** kiss you.

A _real_ non-fake-out make-out.

Love,  
Danny Fenton _and_ Phantom

P.S. - Pucker up! You've asked for it.

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_Fini_! What did you think?

Review! They make me very happy.

Happy Me Faster Updates

-**_A_**


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